Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

HALLOWEEN

I lie on my bed, staring up at the carved and painted ceiling. I know every mark, every shape on it, the shadows it creates as the night passes. I know them like I know how my skin feels, or the sound of my breath in the morning.

I can't stop thinking about Kyle.

Despite the fact that I know I shouldn't, despite the fact that I'm crossing a dangerous line, I haven't been able to stay away from him.

I know I should remember who I am. But that's just the problem. Every single night that I wake, that I join the rest of the house, none of whom need to sleep or eat breakfast or have candle-lamps to light their way, I remember who I am. I'm the heir to Raven, and I'm human.

But with Kyle it's different. I can't believe he used to annoy me so much, or that he seemed to dislike me. Now I can't wait to see him. He just makes me feel like… Emelia. A girl he likes. And he's just a boy I like. With him, unlike with anyone else I've ever met, I can forget who I'm supposed to be. And focus on who I want to be.

The bonus is that, despite his initial protests, he doesn't seem to be able to stay away from me either.

Except he's gone.

The week following the Halloween decorations was a haze of stolen, violet-scented kisses, hidden in alcoves and darkened rooms, trying to avoid the watchful eyes of both Bertrand and my parents. Of running across the estate, his arms around me, of getting to know each other. I was waiting for the perfect moment to tell him about my plan, to put things in motion, but it was hard to remember anything much when his hands, his mouth, were on me.

Then I woke up one morning and he wasn't outside my room. ‘Called away, Mistral's orders,' was all Bertrand had said when I asked him, his gaze so kindly and wise. I'd panicked, going to my mother, asking for assurances that they hadn't got rid of him, while trying to hide my own desperation. But the fact he didn't tell me he was leaving pulls at me, like a scar beneath my skin. Him leaving means my plans are on hold. And I miss him, so much.

I need to get past this. He's a guard, and I'm Raven. I've been alone before, so I don't understand why it hurts so badly this time. If he doesn't return I'll figure out another way to get to the Safe Zone. The hot prickle beneath my eyelids tells me I'm lying to myself. I laugh, but it turns into a sob. I roll onto my side, pulling my blanket over me, the hum of soft velvet under my fingers comforting.

I wish I could stay here.

But tonight is the Halloween ball. The shutters have already risen, guests are arriving, all the most powerful vampires of Raven under one roof for the biggest party of the year. Bigger than the annual Gatherings, when all the clans loyal to Raven meet for three nights under the moon, loyalties pledged and matches made, the great dynasty ensuring its future. My parents will expect me to be there, just like they do every year. One of the very few spaces where I can be in public yet still be safe, flanked by guards and the walls of my home. I used to love going when I was younger, thought it was a special treat. Now the thought of it is exhausting. Because this is the last year I will attend as just Emelia. I know everyone will be thinking about it, as soon as they see me. And about how unsuitable I am to be Raven. Politeness, I suppose, will stop them from gossiping about it under my parents' roof. But the way Stella and her friends reacted to me at the Dome tells me everything I need to know about what vampires really think of me.

My dress is hanging on the door of my wardrobe, the silvery silk like ripples on water. Ready for me, the next Raven, to wear. I sit up, then flop back down again.

There's a knock at the door. ‘Emelia?'

Damn.

I slide from my bed, rubbing my face and yawning. I pull on my robe, tying it tight. ‘Come in.'

The door opens to admit my mother. She's wearing a long full robe, deep red and embroidered, her hair rippling loose down her back. Her face lights up when she sees me.

‘Gorgeous girl! Happy Halloween!' She holds out her arms. I go to her, reaching for her hug. She kisses me, her spicy perfume mingling with her violet scent. I hang onto her for a moment, wanting to remember this, remember her.

‘Here.' She pulls back, taking something from one of the pockets of her voluminous robe. It's a small square package wrapped in black silk and tied with a silver bow. ‘From your father and me.' Her dark eyes are shining, a faint flush to her pale cheeks. I suppose she's just fed.

‘Where's Father?'

‘Oh—' she flaps her hand ‘—supervising something in the ballroom, I think. He's obsessed with every detail.'

Hurt blooms. He can't even come and see me for Halloween. I don't say anything.

‘Emelia.' My mother takes my hands in hers, the laughter gone from her voice. ‘He loves you, so much. It's just, there's a lot going on at the moment. And you know how important the ball is. He's looking forward to seeing you later.'

‘Sure.' More important than me, I guess.

‘Come on.' She tilts her head so she's looking up at me. ‘Open your gift. Please?'

I take the parcel from her, undoing the silk to reveal a square wooden box, my initials carved into the top and inlaid with silver. There's a card as well, written in dark red ink.

‘It's gorgeous,' I say, turning it in my hands. ‘Thank you.'

She shakes her head. ‘No, no, open it!'

I open the small box. Nestled on black velvet is a pendant on a long silver chain, delicate links interspersed with tiny silver beads. The pendant is silver, too, ebony enamel and diamonds making up the Raven crest. It's beautiful. I lift it from the box, the candle-lamp making it sparkle.

‘Do you like it?' My mother puts her arm around me and I lean into her.

‘I love it,' I say. ‘Thank you.'

‘I'm so glad.' She pauses. ‘Is there something else troubling you, dear one?'

‘I'm fine,' I say. ‘Looking forward to the party.' Lies.

‘Hmmm.' She regards me a moment longer, her eyes narrowed. Then she tilts her head, glancing back as though she hears something. She smiles. ‘Come now, you must get ready. Guests are arriving, the celebration's starting soon.' There's a wildness to her voice and I take in a breath, caught in the magic of it, of Halloween. Maybe tonight won't be so bad.

She hugs me once more. ‘Will you wear your necklace?'

‘I will, I love it.'

‘I love you, too.' I feel her kiss on my brow and then she's gone, the door closing.

* * *

The hallway is wide and high-ceilinged, gold carvings like lace decorating the rust-coloured walls. Music, sinuous and sweet, emanates from beyond the double doors up ahead. Guards stand at intervals, two more following me. I smooth my hands down my skirt, waiting for the ballroom doors to open, the scent of my anti-feed curling in my nostrils. I know I'll never be as beautiful as any of the vampires in there, all chiselled perfection, but I like my dress, at least. The fitted bodice is held up by thin silk straps, the long skirt flaring from my hips to swirl around my feet. There's a tasselled belt at my waist, twisted silver and black silk threads fastened with the house crest, matching my new necklace. My shoes are silver as well, straps wrapping my feet fastened by wickedly pointed buckles studded with small diamonds. If I blur my eyes, I even look like my mother – same dark hair, same pale slender limbs.

I make my entrance, brushing aside the guards as they try to announce me. I'm not ready to be noticed yet. The ballroom is lit with candles, flames dancing in the huge chandeliers, the glow of electric candle-lamps picking up the glitter of gold-painted wall panels, the shimmer of diamonds and silk. There are also guards, lots of them, more than I ever recall seeing at a party, standing at intervals along the walls. Kyle isn't among them. The air smells of violets and smoke and perfume, is filled with laughter and conversation. Blood dancers in scraps of black chiffon and lace work the room, their veins marked with silver glitter.

Would you like it?

I look at our blood dancers, smiling and healthy, laughing and dancing, and try to imagine how it would feel to be one of them. When I was small I thought they were beautiful, complained when I wasn't allowed to wear glitter like they did. Now, for the first time, I wonder at their lives beyond our walls, whether they know about the rebellion brewing out there, while the Raven elite dance and drink and celebrate their great victory.

For a moment, everything seems strange and different. Like I've wandered into a world I've never seen before, the whirling vampires grotesque, the contortions of the blood dancers like pain, rather than ecstasy. It's as though something has ignited inside me, burning through old walls, my old way of thinking.

I look around, wondering if Kyle is here, then spot my mother across the room. She's changed from her robe into a fitted dress of crimson silk, strapless, her alabaster shoulders bare. She's wearing the Raven insignia on her choker, jet and diamonds around her slender neck, glittering chains of silver in her dark hair. A tall blond vampire is talking to her, his head bent close. I recognise him. Mistral. Of course he's hanging around Mother. I change direction but she sees me, beckoning me over. Damn. I paste a smile on my face and head over, curtseying when I reach them.

‘No need for that.' Mistral takes my hand, raising it to his lips. ‘It is I who should bow to you, Emelia Raven, heir to our throne. She's more like you every day.' He turns to my mother, who smiles, her onyx eyes flicking to me.

‘She is, isn't she?'

‘And yet…' Mistral tilts his head. I frown. My mother raises her eyebrows.

‘And yet…?'

‘Well, she has something of your husband as well, especially around the cheekbones.'

Heat rises to my face, more from annoyance than anything else. I'm standing right here, for fuck's sake! Mistral's eyes widen, and he licks his lips. My mother twines her arm with mine, bringing me close.

Mistral touches my cheek, then cups my chin. ‘A real beauty,' he murmurs, his iridescent blue eyes on me. I take in a breath. He's beautiful, all smooth skin and cheekbones, his hair like spun gold. I try to slide my arm free but my mother clutches it tightly, so much that it hurts.

Mistral smiles. ‘A shame you're human. Though, a very special one. You know, my youngest son is a similar age.' He turns his attention to my mother. ‘Perhaps we need to talk, Penelope?'

I take a step back, shaken. A shame I'm human? He really is a dick. I feel a hand on my shoulder.

It's my father. His cool lips brush my cheek. ‘Halloween greetings, Emelia.'

‘And to you,' I say, but he's already turned his attention elsewhere.

‘Any such discussion can wait, Mistral. Surely we have other things to manage at this point.'

Mistral grins, all white teeth and cheekbones. ‘Is he always this boring?' He winks at my mother, who looks outraged.

‘Friedrich, you know better than this?—'

‘Oh, I'm joking.' He laughs, then bows to my father. ‘My apologies.' He bows to me, too. ‘And to you as well, beautiful one. Come, Aleksandr, let's talk business then, shall we?'

My mother watches them go, her perfect crimson lips half open. My mouth is tight.

‘There will be dancing soon,' my mother says, still holding my arm. ‘You'll stay for that, won't you?'

‘Er, sure.' She knows me too well. I've been at this party for ten minutes and I already want to leave. ‘I'll just get a drink.'

My mother kisses my cheek and releases me. I head to a table at one side of the room, set with refreshments for the blood dancers, and me. Fruit spills from silver gilt baskets, meats curled into succulent morsels nestle among gleaming olives and soft cheeses, hunks of fresh bread like soft pillows. A novelty, or so I've been told, among vampires. We've always fed our blood dancers well, wanting to keep them in top condition. But when I was born my mother had no idea how to feed me, vampire children needing only the blood of their parent to survive until they're old enough to hunt. A wet nurse was brought in, then apparently a human chef was found in one of the Safe Zones, and brought to the house with instructions to teach my mother how to cook. She fed me until I was old enough to insist on doing it myself, spending hours alone in the kitchens with the lights on, listening to music while I experimented, my mother happy to indulge my whims. But the presence of real food, well-prepared, at a vampire function, is seen as an eccentricity. I suppose it's also a reminder of the disappointment of their human heir. Again, I feel that flame inside me, flickering. It feels like defiance.

Glasses stand in orderly rows next to the food, some full of wine, blood red and sunshine gold, more with water, sparkling silver bubbles. I pass on the wine, despite how I usually enjoy it, another way I while away my days. Something about the room seems off and, even though I'm in my own home, I feel the need to stay sharp. I fill a small plate with food and pick up a glass of water, nodding to a blood dancer standing nearby, holding a jug of what is probably more wine. The air is filled with the scent of violets, and I wonder why he isn't dancing. Perhaps he's tired. He seems tense, though, his gaze darting around the room. I don't recognise him. When I smile at him, he doesn't smile back.

I find a seat near the long windows, eating while I watch shadowy trees dance under the moon. My thoughts shift to the humans out there, living in the Safe Zones. I wonder whether they're celebrating Halloween too.

Your family farm.

Kyle's words sit uncomfortably with me, like a prickle in my chest. I'm desperate to go, to live a life in the light with them, free from the weight of my family name. To live in a place where I belong, where I can do as I wish without worrying about being attacked, rather than being under guard the entire time. A place where I fit in, rather than standing out. But doubt now blooms inside me, along with my desire to leave, to forge my own path. My plan has to work. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't.

Do you not realise what a difference you could make?

More words, spoken in a darkened hallway. They sit strangely with me as well, but for a different reason. No one has ever suggested that to me before. That I could make a difference. I can't imagine how. And I don't plan on sticking around long enough to find out. Panic twists, low in my stomach, at the thought of my impending coronation, as I stare into the darkness. Along with it is yearning. I wonder whether Kyle is somewhere out there, what he could be doing that has taken him from my side.

‘… The North Wind will blow…' My ears prick up and I turn, scanning the room. There's a small group near me, three blood dancers. I think it was one of them who spoke.

‘It's a nursery rhyme,' says another, leaning in close. ‘But they've changed it.'

Who? Who changed it? Are they talking about the rebels ? I lean in as well but one of them notices me and nudges the others, their worried expressions changing to smiles.

‘My lady,' says the one closest to me. They move away before I can ask them anything, splitting up as they enter the crowd, trailing glittering temptation. I put my plate aside and get up, following in their wake, hoping to hear more.

Despite what Kyle told me, the rebellion still seems like nonsense. As if humans could do anything against the four families. But to hear our dancers talking about it… Again, I note the extra guards in the room, the feeling that something isn't quite right, the strangeness seeming to press at the walls. I can't just sit here and do nothing. I could ask my father, at least, though I don't want to get anyone in trouble.

I wander through the crowd, people dancing, feeding, talking in groups. But no one is saying anything interesting. Then I spot my father, broad-shouldered and lean in his usual gilt-edged black, talking with Mistral and another vampire. If I'm not mistaken, it's Stella's father, Artos Ravenna. I can't see my father's face, but Mistral looks serious.

I move closer. A few guests smile at me – they look vaguely familiar, so maybe I've seen them at Gatherings. I smile back, sipping my drink, trying not to seem as though I'm eavesdropping, though I'm sure my father knows I'm there. As does everyone else.

‘… honestly, humans are becoming more and more difficult to control. It's like they don't want to be in Safe Zones anymore. If it wasn't going to cost so much, I'd be tempted to release them and let them take their chances. After all, stocks worldwide are heading back to record levels.' Mistral frowns, his arms folded.

‘They're still nowhere near pre-Rising levels, though,' my father replies. ‘And the unrest is getting worse. They're making incursions into our cities, and I've no idea how they're getting through the perimeters. I've had reports from all over the country.'

I sidle closer, as close as I dare.

‘Yes, we've had similar problems, as you already know. I've had to double the guards on our UK estates. And their upkeep is becoming increasingly expensive – the amount of clean-up they require! Filthy creatures, really.' Artos Ravenna sounds annoyed.

Asshole. I'm human. I turn away, taking another sip of my drink.

‘Not all of them, surely, Artos. Why, Emelia here is a rare beauty.' Cool fingers curl around my upper arm and I flinch, nearly dropping my drink. I turn to see Mistral close to me, his glorious face like something from an ancient coin.

‘Emelia.' My father takes my hand, pulling me gently from Mistral's grasp, linking his arm with mine. ‘Are you enjoying the evening?'

‘Er, yes. Yes, I am.' I decide to go for it. ‘Um, I keep hearing people talking about North Winds, though. What's that?' I smile, my eyes wide. My father's lips twitch. Artos Ravenna comes forward, taking my free hand and bringing it to his lips. His hair is darker gold than Mistral's, his features sharp in his lean face. He's taller than I am, though not as tall as Mistral or my father.

‘Lovely Emelia! She is delicious, Aleksandr, truly so!' Ravenna cries. ‘My dear,' he turns his attention to me, ‘Stella told me she saw you the other week, at her Moon party. She flits about so much, one week a party here, another week there – I barely see her myself!' He's too jovial, as though he's covering up for something. I wonder what she told him.

I manage a smile. ‘Um, yes, that's right. But anyway, what about?—'

There's a sharp clapping noise and we all turn. My mother stands at the centre of the room, like a perfect jewel in a gleaming setting. ‘Listen all,' she cries. ‘Halloween is nigh, the moon rides high, so let the celebrations begin!'

A gold embroidered silk curtain hangs along one side of the room. Mother claps her hands again and it falls, revealing a band of musicians and a new group of dancers, glittering and lithe, wearing even fewer clothes than the previous group. There's a cry of excitement, moans as they enter the crowd, the musicians starting to play. The beat is wild, infectious, and the room starts to sway as one, couples twining around each other. I'm glad my father has hold of me.

‘Lady, will you dance?' Mistral holds out his hand. I glance at my father. His brows draw together, a brief flicker, but he knows he can't really refuse. He may outrank Mistral, but there are courtesies to be observed. He brings my hand to his lips, kissing it under the guise of checking my anti-feed. He nods once, before handing me to Mistral.

And then I'm in Mistral's arms.